


Happy Accidents

by walkalittleline



Series: It Might be Fate [3]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Caleb gets beaned by a frisbee, M/M, more meet cutes, obv modern au it’s all I do, one day I’ll make half an effort at writing a summary but today is not that day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 13:47:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20408758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walkalittleline/pseuds/walkalittleline
Summary: There's a wide, sprawling maple tree in the corner of the park that Caleb likes to call his tree. He enjoys these warm summer mornings when he can slip on Frumpkin's harness and coax him into his carrier, slinging it carefully over his shoulder and tucking a book under his arm before making his way down the street from his apartment where the park is stretched out, green and lush in the heat. He settles at the base of the tree, unzips Frumpkin's carrier, and hooks his leash to the front of his yellow harness before lifting him up to drape around his shoulders, where he happily dozes, purring steadily, while Caleb reads under the shade.





	Happy Accidents

**Author's Note:**

> I missed my boys and this has been sitting in my docs for months so have another meet cute, I do love them so.

There's a wide, sprawling maple tree in the corner of the park that Caleb likes to call his tree. He enjoys these warm summer mornings when he can slip on Frumpkin's harness and coax him into his carrier, slinging it carefully over his shoulder and tucking a book under his arm before making his way down the street from his apartment where the park is stretched out, green and lush in the heat. He settles at the base of the tree, unzips Frumpkin's carrier, and hooks his leash to the front of his yellow harness before lifting him up to drape around his shoulders, where he happily dozes, purring steadily, while Caleb reads under the shade.

It’s been particularly hot the past week, and he’s starting to feel sweat gather along his neck where Frumpkin’s sun-warmed fur is against his skin. He sets down his book to fish out the bottle of water from the side pouch of the carrier, unscrewing the cap and tipping his head back to take a long drink, reaching up with his free hand to scratch Frumpkin absently behind the ears.

“Hey! Heads up!”

Caleb turns in the direction of the shout curiously, only half taking in the sight of the huge dog barreling towards him, tongue flopping out of its mouth, before something hard and bright green slams into his forehead, bouncing off his skull into the grass. His head rockets back and bangs against the trunk of the tree, white light exploding in his vision as pain bursts simultaneously across the front and back of his head. He hears Frumpkin yowl and hiss angrily, another shock of pain running through him when his claws sink viciously into his shoulder, tearing at his skin as the cat scrambles up his neck in his hurry to escape. His leash slips from around his wrist and he hears the scratch of claws up the trunk of the tree behind him.

He raises his hand automatically to his throbbing forehead, blinking away the blur of color hazy in his vision. He’s barely had a chance to try and regain his bearings before his lap is full of a massive, panting dog, spine buckling when it plants its paws on his shoulders and begins barking gleefully up at where Frumpkin is spitting furiously down at it from the branches overhead. Its breath is hot and wet on his face and he recoils, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

“Nugget! Down!”

Caleb holds his hands up to try and fend off the dog, which has now lost interest in Frumpkin and is licking his face and sniffing him enthusiastically, tail wagging as it leaps around him playfully.

“Nugget!”

The dog barks loudly once but bounds away from him towards the sound of the voice, Caleb dragging his sleeve over his slobber-coated cheek to wipe it clean as he looks up at the figure that has just jogged up to him, coming to a halt a few feet away, looking horrified. The firbolg pushes his long pink hair back off his face, panting lightly. There’s a faint sheen of sweat at his hairline, cheeks pink in the heat.

“Go back to Jester,” he says sternly to the dog, snapping his fingers and pointing back down the stretch of grass from where he’d come.

The dog licks his hand once before obeying, bounding back across the lawn on long, ungainly limbs towards where a blue tiefling woman is watching them curiously in the distance, hand raised to shield her eyes against the sun glaring through the trees.

“I am _ so _ sorry _ , _” the firbolg says, moving to Caleb’s side and kneeling down in front of him, eyes wide with concern. “Oh my gosh, are you okay?” His hands hover fretfully in midair like he wants to touch Caleb but isn’t sure if he’s allowed to.

“_Ja_, f-fine,” Caleb mutters dazedly, still feeling faintly dizzy and maybe a little nauseous, head aching and shoulder throbbing where Frumpkin has scratched him. He can still hear him growling lowly overhead.

“No, you’re not,” the firbolg says seriously, combing his fingers through his hair as his eyes dart over Caleb. “You probably have a concussion, I am _ so sorry. _ I got distracted and wasn’t watching where the frisbee was going and—“ and drags his hand restlessly through his hair again. It’s starting to look disheveled. “That’s no excuse, I guess.” He frowns, bottom lip tucked between his teeth.

“Caduceus! What’s taking so long?”

The firbolg glances over his shoulder at the approaching voice, Caleb following his gaze to the blue tiefling striding up to them with the dog at her side. Caleb flinches away when the dog trots to the firbolg’s side and licks up the side of his face. 

“Down, boy,” the firbolg mutters, gently pushing the dog back. It leaps back and goes to sniff at the base of Caleb’s tree instead, promptly lifting its leg to piss on its roots. Caleb hurries to scramble back away from it, gathering his things to his chest and scooting across the grass.

“Whoa, hey, easy,” the firbolg—Caduceus did the tiefling say?—says, laying his hand on Caleb’s upper back. “You need to stay still, you really got walloped.” He turns to look up at the tiefling, who’s watching them curiously, hands on her hips. 

“I hit him with the frisbee, Jester,” Caduceus says guiltily. “I’m afraid he has a concussion.”

“I am fine,” Caleb repeats more firmly, shrugging off the firbolg’s hand. His long ears droop mournfully and Caleb tells himself to ignore the sting of guilt he feels at the expression. He’s not the one who threw of frisbee at his face, after all.

“See?” the tiefling says, shrugging. “He’s fine.”

“Jester,” Caduceus warns, frowning, “he could be seriously hurt.”

“I am not hurt,” Caleb says even as his head pulses with pain. He can feel a bruise forming where the frisbee hit him in the middle of the forehead. He reaches up and grimaces at the small bump forming.

“See?” Caduceus says, sounding distressed. “Here, just let me…”

Caleb stills as Caduceus takes his head in both hands, thumbs resting on his cheeks and fingers fanned over his ears and the sides of his neck. His hands are large and warm on Caleb’s skin, exceedingly gentle for someone as big as he is. He peers down at Caleb fretfully, silhouetted by the glow of the sun, and Caleb is struck by the bizarre thought that he looks like an angel, his features soft with concern, outline fuzzy with the halo of yellow light.

“I’m going to ask you some questions, okay?” he says, leaning closer so he can look into Caleb’s eyes, pulling down lightly on his lower lids as he does.

Caleb nods almost automatically, oddly calmed by the low rumble of his voice and the feel of his hands carefully cradling his face. He wonders vaguely if maybe it is just a concussion.

“What’s your name?” Caduceus says softly.

“Caleb Widogast,” Caleb replies. “But you would not know if that was correct or not.”

Caduceus cracks a smile at that, laughing quietly. The sound is pleasantly soothing.

“That’s fair,” he says, “Alright then, what year is it?”

“2019.”

“Mm, good. And who’s the president?”

Caleb merely wrinkles his nose distastefully at this and Caduceus chuckles again.

“I’ll accept that,” he says. He hesitates for a moment before adding, “one more question, yeah?”

Caleb hums, nodding.

“Are you single?”

It’s Caleb’s turn to laugh now, snorting in disbelief as Caduceus smiles sheepishly, hands still resting on either side of his face.

“Are you hitting on someone you may have concussed?” he says, lifting an eyebrow quizzically.

“That depends, I guess,” Caduceus says.

“On what?”

“On what your answer is.”

Something flips unexpectedly in Caleb’s stomach, his breath catching in his throat around an unformed response that dies on his lips.

“Oh, um, yes,” he mutters. “I am.”

Caduceus smiles so brightly Caleb can’t help but return it. Caduceus wets his lips, the pads of his thumbs brushing lightly across Caleb’s cheekbones, and for one heartstopping moment Caleb thinks he’s going to kiss him.

But then the tiefling, Jester, is making an impatient sound in her throat and Caleb is reminded with a jolt that Frumpkin is still up the tree when he meows plaintively. 

“Oh, right,” Caduceus mutters, pulling his hands back and pushing to his feet smoothly. He holds out his hand to Caleb to help him up, steadying him with an arm around his waist when he wobbles as his head spins with the sense of vertigo. He blinks hard, holding his hand up to catch his balance and planting it on Caduceus’ chest, firm and solid under his fingers.

“Easy,” Caduceus says with a guilty expression. “Gosh, I really think you might have a concussion.” He brushes the backs of his knuckles lightly over the lump on Caleb’s forehead. “You really should see a doctor.” His hand is still resting broad on Caleb’s lower back, his fingertips ghosting fretfully over his temple, and Caleb finds himself nodding automatically in agreement. He’s very convincing.

There’s a quiet, mournful meow, and he looks over to see Frumpkin perched in the tree, shoulders hunched protectively as he paces along one of the low branches, leash draped loosely over the limb.

“My cat,” Caleb says unnecessarily. 

The dog is still at the base of the tree, looking up curiously at Frumpkin but no longer barking, head cocked to the side and making one of its large, pointed ears flop down. 

“Oh, um, hang on,” Caduceus says. He removes his hand from Caleb’s waist, checking that he’s steady on his own feet before striding up to the tree and shooing the dog back to the tiefling before reaching one hand up towards Frumpkin. He’s so tall Caleb thinks he could easily scoop him down with no effort, but he simply holds his fingers towards the cat, clicking his tongue softly.

“Hey, pal,” he says, smiling when Frumpkin slinks a few steps towards him along the branch. “Sorry about Nugget, he’s a puppy so he’s still learning how to act around new friends. Would you like to come down? I promise, I won’t throw another frisbee at Caleb’s face.”

Frumpkin sniffs cautiously at the tips of Caduceus’ fingers, meowing quietly and bumping his head into his hand. Caleb watches in disbelief as Caduceus smiles and stretches his arm up to lift Frumpkin carefully from the branch with one hand, holding him against his chest when he lowers him. Frumpkin immediately begins purring as Caduceus scratches under his chin.

“There we go,” Caduceus says, smiling as he holds Frumpkin out to Caleb, who accepts him gratefully and quickly loops his leash around his wrist a few times.

“Thank you,” Caleb says, hugging Frumpkin to his chest before allowing the cat to climb up to his usual perch on his shoulder.

“It’s really the least I could do,” Caduceus replies, rubbing the back of his neck guiltily. He eyes the scratches visible along the side of Caleb’s neck. “There’s an urgent care not too far from here, can I at least walk you there? I really do feel horrible about this.”

“I think I am okay,” Caleb says even as his head spins and he has to catch himself on Caduceus’ chest again to keep from losing his balance.

“You’re not,” Caduceus says firmly. “C’mon, it’s only a block or two away.”

Caleb tried to protest but Caduceus gives him a stern look that quickly shuts him up. 

“Jester, go ahead and meet up with Fjord, I’ll catch up with you guys later, yeah?” Caduceus says, bending down to pick up the frisbee that’s still lying innocently in the grass nearby. He passes it to Jester before ruffling the dog’s ears.

“Alright,” Jester says reluctantly, pursing her lips and giving Caleb a meditative look. “Sorry about your head. I like your cat, what’s his name?”

“Frumpkin,” Caleb replies, reaching up to pet him as he says it.

“That’s adorable,” Caduceus says, chuckling. He gathers up Caleb’s scattered things, helping him ease the still skittish Frumpkin into his carrier before looping on arm around Caleb’s waist supportively, slouching a little to do so.

“I _ can _ walk,” Caleb says when they’ve bid farewell to Jester and Nugget and set off down the sidewalk. “I didn’t hurt my legs.”

“Better safe than you losing your balance and falling,” Caduceus says, eyes fixed forward. His arm squeezes briefly around Caleb’s middle and Caleb doesn’t argue further. He’s not about to admit it out loud but Caduceus’ arm around his waist is… nice. Steady but with the same gentleness he’d shown when touching his face.

The clinic is crowded and noisy, but Caduceus insists on sitting and waiting with him for the full hour until a doctor can see him, chatting amiably about his work—he helps run a flower shop with his two sisters; it’s oddly fitting for him—and Caleb’s work, the conversation meandering to their families then Caleb’s love of books when Caduceus spots the paperback tucked in the side pouch of Frumpkin’s carrier.

When the doctor calls him back, Caleb is fully expecting Caduceus to be gone when he returns to the waiting room. But he’s still there, waiting in the stiff plastic chair that’s much too small for his gangly figure and looking immensely relieved when Caleb confirms he only has a very mild concussion and has been prescribed plenty of rest but nothing more.

“You should have someone with you today,” Caduceus says as Caleb slips Frumpkin’s carrier over his shoulder and they step out into the warm air together. “Keep an eye on you.”

There’s something in the hesitant way he says it, the way he tugs distractedly at the hem of his t-shirt, that makes it obvious to Caleb what he’s suggesting.

“What about your friends?” he says, thinking to the tiefling.

“They’ll be fine without me,” Caduceus replies, seeming hopeful at Caleb’s lack of immediate rejection.

Caleb tries to tell himself it’s a horrible idea, he barely knows this man, he could get robbed blind or kidnapped or god knows what else. But Caduceus is, for all his knowledge, kind, warm, maybe a little flighty with the way he seems to lose his train of thought in conversation, and, yes, he’s also attractive. And, apparently, interested in him.

“Alright,” he says at last, nodding.

“Yeah?” Caduceus says, ears perking up happily.

“Mm.”

Caduceus beams and Caleb lets him slip his arm around his waist again though he no longer feels that unsteadiness to his steps that he did before. When, hours later after they’ve spent the rest of the morning and half the afternoon talking, conversation flowing easily between them, Caduceus asks for his phone number, he lets him have that, too. And when Caduceus asks shyly if he can kiss him when he’s hovering in the doorway later that evening, Caleb lets him.


End file.
